


if you're going through hell, keep going

by TheFinalOtp



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Harley Keener, Depression, Gen, Harley Keener-centric, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, My boi has Problems, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFinalOtp/pseuds/TheFinalOtp
Summary: Harley Keener is a mess, and he made peace with it - that is, till Tony Stark shows up in Rose Hill and drags him to New York.orA story of pain and friendship, of relapses and healing and more importantly, a story of learning that everyone deserves good things.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Harley Keener's Sister, Harley Keener & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here's a quick explanation of the canon divergence and some other stuff:
> 
> This story takes place roughly 3 years after Civil War, but ignores all that stuff with Thanos and such. I don't think I will include Team Cap in this fic.
> 
> Harley is a senior in high school, so is Peter Parker who will show up in later chapters. Harley's sister, Abbie is a sophomore. 
> 
> This story will talk about depression, substance abuse, and mild violence. Please be aware if you are sensitive about these topics.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the story! Enjoy :)

On days like this, Harley couldn't even leave his bed.

Abbie had tried to drag him out a couple times, but had given up when Harley just didn't move. She had looked at him with a mix of pain and pity before softly closing the door behind her.

On days like this, Harley didn't want to exist anymore. He didn't want the sunshine, he didn't want to feel the time passing, he didn't want to think of other people - he didn't want to _be_. Sometimes, if he could gather the strength to sit up, he would grab the cheap bottle of whiskey stashed under his bed. He would hope that alcohol could make things a little hazy, maybe even lull him back to sleep. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn't.

He worked in the garage in downtown, when he could. The money wasn't that good, but it was better than nothing at all. His ma' worked her ass off to keep the roof over their heads, that was the least he could do. Mickey, the guy who owned the garage always asked him what college he wanted to go to - and the most Harley could manage to do was to keep in a snort. He honestly didn't think - never had thought - that he would live long enough to go college. Even if he did, he wouldn't.

Abbie was brilliant in many ways he wasn't. He had taught her all he knew when they were both still kids - and she was more capable now than he could ever imagine to be. She was good with people, too. She always knew what to say to a crying child, or their exhausted mother, or anyone in need. There was a look they shared then, she would look at them with love and their eyes would shine with gratitude.

It was at these moments where Harley felt unneeded the most. Unwanted. Invisible. Alone.

So he would work. He would work to make money, to help his ma', to save college money for his sister. (He had seen the MIT website that she left open on their shared computer - he had stared at it for a second before closing the tab.) Sometimes his mind would slip to his garage, where tools lay gathering dust. There would be a lingering ache in his chest.

His life became that. He would work and he would drink and he would sleep. Just when he accepted that this would be it for the forseeable future, it all came to a halting stop.

*

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The shop wasn't busy on Tuesdays, the rush days were usually Mondays - not that there was much rush to begin with in Rose Hill. So when an expensive looking black Audi pulled in, it got all eyes on it. Dread settled in Harley's belly.

He saw his coworkers' eyes bugging out of their skulls, he heard their gasps as Tony Stark himself stepped out from the driver's side but he couldn't bring himself to react - it was like lead had settled into his bones, and not even this could shock him out of it.

The man's eyes zeroed on Harley. He was sure no one had ever looked at him with such unadulterated fury. Ignoring Harley's spluttering coworkers, the man walked directly towards Harley till he was standing right in front of the boy. It was weird to be looking down at the man, now that Harley was the taller one by a couple of inches.

The man sniffed. "You reek of cheap whiskey."

"Yeah, the quality of my alcohol isn't high on my list of priorities now," Harley deadpanned. "Not that you're unwelcome, but why are you here?"

"I'm here because your sister called me."

"Yeah? Well, she's at school right now. You're early. Are we done here? I have work to do." Harley turned to grab his wrench, but an iron grip on his wrist stopped him.

"No, we're not done," the man hissed. Harley could see that some of his coworkers were reaching for the closest tools - no matter how famous Tony was, they always looked out for their own.

"Your sister called me because she's worried about you - and from what I see, she has every right to be. You should be at school right now, not working at a shitty garage and wasting your potential so dramatically that it's just self destruction at this point. This ends now."

"Yeah?" Harley let out a bitter laugh. "How so? Because not everyone can afford to send every kid in the family to school, not that you would know. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon up their ass. I'm here because it's Abbie who deserves an education out of the two of us."

"So that's what you're going to do till she graduates college? Okay. What then? You're gonna be on the wrong side of twenty without a high school diploma, Keener," Tony seethed, jabbing a finger into the boy's chest. "Is that what you want? You want this for the rest of your life?" he asked, gesturing to the garage. "Or maybe you won't even get to have this if you can't get to work because you're a fucking drunk."

Harley looked at the man, incredulous and pissed. "Oh, you wanna talk about being a drunk? That's just fucking hilarious."

"Harley Keener, you're gonna get your ass into the car, and you're gonna come to New York with me, and you're not gonna even think about Tennessee till you're all straightened up."

"The hell I am!"

Over Harley's raised voice, all the men in the background became fully alert, standing up straighter as their brows furrowed. Even though Harley was sure Tony was aware of them, he didn't seem alarmed or even distracted. Instead, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a white, thin envelope from an inside pocket. He waved it in front of the boy's face.

"This is a reccomendation letter from me. This could get anyone into any college. I know this and you know this. Do what I say, and it's yours."

Harley took a step back, letting out a frustrated groan as he ran his hand through his mop of a hair. He hated that the man could yield so much power over him. But he knew Tony was right - it would help his sister more than the money he would make till she was off to college.

"I'm only doing this for Abbie," he said at last, relenting. He reached for the envelope, but Tony stuffed it back into his jacket.

"Get in the car."

"Fuck you," he said without any heat behind. He pushed past the man and got into the passenger's side, ignoring the eyes on him.

Tony was talking to Mickey, and even though Harley couldn't hear what they were saying, he could see that Mickey was a little aggresive but Tony didn't seem threatened. After pushing a different envelope clearly bursting with cash into the hands of Harley's boss, Tony got into the car without letting the man say another word. Harley shut his eyes and tipped his head back. He didn't want to see the men looking at them.

"I don't have my shit with me," he said, breaking the tense silence when he realised they were directly leaving town instead of heading to Harley's home.

"I have them," the man said, gesturing towards the back seat where Harley's duffel bag laid. "I didn't take any of the bottles stashed under your bed, though there was plenty," he remarked dryly.

"I really don't think you're one to talk here."

"I am though, since I know from experience that that's not a shithole you want to be in."

Harley didn't respond, opting to look out the window as Rose Hill melted behind them. He briefly wondered if they were going to drive all the way to New York, but he didn't bother to ask. It honestly didn't matter, anyway.

He didn't care. He didn't care about any of this, except the letter in the billionaire's jacket.

*

He startled awake by a hand shaking him awake.

"Hey, hey, easy there. You're here," said an unfamiliar voice. He opened his eyes to see a stocky man in a suit.

Him and Harley were alone in the jet that had eventually turned out to be their vehicle. Tony was gone, so they must have landed a while ago. Why had he left Harley?

He sniffed, pushing past the burly man who was definitely in his personal space and grabbed his duffel bag. They stared at each other challengingly before Harley made his way to the exit with a huff.

The cold air hit him like a particularly stingy slap from his ma'. The famous Compound was right in front of him, big and intimidating with all its sharp edges. Harley would have been excited about seeing it, once. 

"I'll show you to your room," Stocky said, "take a shower and ask the AI FRIDAY to take you to Boss."

*

_You're so dead when I come back_ , Harley texted to Abbie as he laid down on his bed, freshly showered. He had chosen to ignore Stocky's command to find Tony, opting to lay in the strangely comfortable bed. It felt weird not having to bend in order to avoid springs. 

_You're lucky to have that man in your corner. You may not see it now, but you're gonna thank me once he's done with you._

_He can't keep me here._

_He isn't though, is he?_

Harley locked the screen and dropped the phone on the bed carelessly.

"Boss requires your presence in his suite," announced a woman from the speakers.

"FRIDAY?" asked the boy.

"This is she," replied the voice primly.

"What happened to JARVIS?"

"I'm not autorised to share that information, but you'll find that boss is. May I guide you to his suite?"

Great deflection, thought Harley. Tony's AI's were good with their words, just like the man himself. "Okay, thanks," he said tentatively. He got out of the bed and looked at himself in the mirror.

He would just have to put on an act. He would smile and laugh and sass like he was expected to, he would build a few things, and he would be on his way back to home in a couple of weeks at most.

He thought of the letter once again. He was doing all this for that letter. He had to, so Abbie could go to any college she wanted.

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

It was weird to see Tony Stark in his sweatpants, eating pizza on a couch that looked like it cost more than everything Harley ever owned. Yet, that was what Harley saw when he stepped out of the elevator.

"Oh, good, you're here," the man said around a mouthful. "I was starting to think you were trying to drown yourself in the shower. Take a seat."

Harley warily sat to the other end of the couch.

"New York pizza," Tony said, pushing a box towards him. "I took the liberty of ordering you a meat lover."

"Thanks," he muttered. He grabbed a slice and bit into it. It didn't really taste that different to him, but he hummed nevertheless.

They ate in silence. Tony was typing with his free hand on the tablet on his lap. Harley took the time to examine his surroundings. The lounge area was connected to the kitchen, which included a big fridge and a marble counter. The design was minimalistic but tasteful the same, with modern artworks hanging on the walls. Amongst the other ones that contained dishes, Harley could see a cabinet filled with all kinds of booze. Tony was sober as far as Harley knew, and while he didn't know Miss Potts, she probably couldn't afford to nurse hangovers often as a CEO. It was kind of pointless to keep them there, really.

A movement on the edge of his sight pulled him out of his thoughts. Tony was putting his tablet done, now that he had apparently finished eating. Harley looked at his own pizza. He had only eaten one slice. He remembered having made a deal with himself to act cheery, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Would it be so bad to not hide how he felt? Maybe Tony could help...

He pushed that thought out of mind. He was a grown ass man, he didn't need to hide in a corner to lick his emotional wounds. He was fine, anyway. Abbie was just being dramatic and thinking that she knew better than anyone. He would get Tony off his back, he would go back to Tennessee and get his job back. Done deal.

Tony cleared his throat. "Kid, look," he said, "I know that you don't wanna be here because you think you could be making money right now. Just so you know, I'll send money to your family as long as you're here - hell, I'll double it, just stay. I want you to get better."

Harley squinted at him. "What's in it for you?"

Tony was clearly taken aback. He blinked a few times. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. You came all the way to Rose Hill, you're promising money and a letter for Abbie, you took me in - that's just too much trouble, especially for a man like you."

"Harley, I know I hadn't been able to keep in touch with you as much as I wanted to, but I do care about you - it's not trouble for me. And honestly? You remind me of myself a bit, and I probably wouldn't have survived my own fit of self destruction if it weren't for the one person who cared. I know your family cares about you, but they can't help you. Not like I can." 

Tony bit his lower lip as if he was trying to physically keep himself from speaking any further but didn't avert his eyes. Harley searched something in his eyes for a moment, something that indicated that the man wasn't being fully honest - but all he could see was bare sincerity.

"Who was the person who helped you?" he asked out of curiosity. The corner of Tony's mouth lifted in a fond smile.

"Rhodey - you may know him as War Machine or Iron Patriot, though War Machine is a far cooler name if you ask me - anyways, I've known him since college and he always stood by my side, made me get my shit together."

"Oh," he said, "he sounds nice."

"He is."

The silence returned after that, but it was comfortable rather than stifling. Harley grabbed another slice of pizza and scooted an inch closer to Tony.

  
  
  


*

He woke up to a pleasant but insistent melody the next morning. He groaned and tumbled out of the too-soft bed.

"Good morning, Mr. Keener. It's currently 10 a.m. Boss is not available till 2 p.m. but you are welcome to use his lab once you have breakfast," FRIDAY said, as prim as ever.

"Thanks, FRIDAY," Harley mumbled sleepily, "and call me Harley please." 

She didn't reply, but he supposed that she had acknowledged him and dragged his feet to the kitchenette in his room. He didn't have any appetite, but he had a suspicion that he wouldn't be allowed in the lab with an empty stomach. After fixing himself a bowl of cereal and black, sugary coffee, he plopped down on the bare tiles to eat as he scrolled on his phone.

There were a bunch of texts from his friends and the guys from the garage as well as some plain nosey people from the town. He ignored the others and opened the ones from his best friend Scott first. The boy had frantically tried to reach him, asking where the hell he had disappeared to, what kind of trouble he was in and how he could help. 

He skimmed over the other texts. There seemed to be a common misconception that he had gotten himself into some shady business and now was taken - it was pretty funny, if he were to be honest. He texted back to some people that he actually gave a shit about - which weren’t plenty, really - and ignored the rest. Abbie would take care of the town gossip, and even if she couldn’t - hell, who cared?

Harley fell into a routine in the next few days. He would have breakfast, then he would go down to the lab and fool around with whatever project Tony had left lying around. Tony would usually call him to his suite in the late afternoon. He would be in a three-piece and tired from running around doing God knows what the whole day, but he would still press Harley to tell him about his day and how he was feeling. They would watch TV a little, Harley would try not to stare at the alcohol cabinet, Tony would pretend not to notice.

Nothing really changed till Saturday afternoon. Harley was washing the dishes since Tony had made the casserole - Tony _cooked_ now, talk about a surprise - when the man offhandedly said that they would leave that night.

“Wait, where are we going?” Harley asked confusedly.

“To the city. You know, where I own a tower?” Tony said, looking equally confused. “Did you think we were going to stay here?”

“I - yeah?”

“This was a convenient spot to land the jet and I needed to get some things done about the Accords - we have the meetings with the UN in here. I also thought that it might not be the best idea to grab you from Rose Hill and bring you to a big, loud city while you were a hot mess - no offense.”

“None taken, I guess? When do we leave?” Harley asked, voice suddenly strained.

Tony looked at his ridiculously expensive looking watch and shrugged. “We can leave once you’re done with the dishes,” he decided. His eyes lingered on Harley’s trembling hands. “You need help?”

“No, just -” The soapy plate slipped out of his hold and crashed loudly into the sink, cracking. “Shit.” He pressed the heel of his hands over his eyes, taking shaky breaths. Blood rushed to his ears, mixing with the sound of running water.

“It’s all right, kid,” was saying Tony. His calloused hands wrapped around Harley’s wrists and uncovered his eyes. “It’s fine, go sit on the couch, okay? I got this.”

Harley ripped his arms free from the man’s grip and went to sit on the couch, feeling like a real piece of shit. He couldn’t even clean up his own mess. Why the hell had his ma’ had made him in the first place, anyway? He was no good. He was just a burden - a burden to his family, a burden to Tony…

His hands curled into fists as his anger at himself and his nails dug into his palm.

“Tony, you need to let me go,” he said.

Tony froze, back still turned to Harley as water kept running. 

“You need to let me go,” Harley repeated. “I can’t - I can’t do this, I was fine in Tennessee, I was handling my shit, now I can’t wash a fucking plate without breaking it.”

Silence hung in the air then, choking him. Tony took his time as he dried the other plate. Then he turned around, leaning against the counter.

“That’s because you’re a high functioning alcoholic,” he said simply. “As long as you keep drinking at night, it looks like you can manage. And you think, why quit? There seems to be absolutely no side effect. And there isn’t one, for a while - it doesn’t seem like there is - but when you realise there is, it’s already too late. You would be breaking plates by throwing them at the walls during arguments if you kept going. I know I have - hell, I’ve done worse. Don’t give up so soon. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better, Harley.”

  
  


*

They drove to New York in a black, sleek car with rock music playing quietly in the background. City lights started to appear after a couple hours, shining in the dark like stars on earth. Harley had never seen anything like it. He couldn’t help but stare in awe as they delved deeper in the city.

The streets were more lively than anywhere Harley had seen. Throbbing light called people in stores and bars, and a steady stream of people of all kinds poured off the sidewalks. With the traffic jams, it still took them a good forty five minutes to arrive at the Tower.

The Tower… The sheer size of it would make Harley’s jaw drop if he were the same excitable boy he used to be. It was in stark contrast with everything Harley grew up surrounded with - big, modern and sleek in a way that reminded him of sci-fi movies. 

They made their way to one of the top floors without encountering anyone. Tony led him into a corridor where all the other doors were closed with a sombre expression.  Harley stopped dead in his tracks in front of the doors. Unlike others, the handle was gone on this one, and instead of a gaping hole, there was just the smooth surface. There was no way someone could get in… unless they could use magic or walk through walls.

“These rooms belonged to the Avengers,” he stated flatly. Tony, who was walking two steps ahead, halted in place. Harley could see how he squared his shoulders, how his pinky finger twitched.

“They did,” he confirmed. “Come on, your room is down the hall.”

*

Harley woke up with flames dancing behind his eyelids and a knot in his chest. The sky was still a darker shade of blue. He reached for his phone to check the time only to find out it was still 6 a.m. He briefly entertained the idea of going back to sleep, but the heat of the fire was still too bright in his mind. He crawled out of his bed and made his way to the bedroom.

Scorching hot water cleansed his skin as he stared bitterly at all the stainless steel and white marble around. He would have to work his ass off his whole life for a quarter of these luxuries, and here, they just remained unused, collecting dust. 

He grabbed a cup of black coffee from the kitchen - there seemed to be a common room right before the elevator, which was probably quite lively in the day, but now sat empty and sad. He descended to Tony’s personal lab, where the man had said he would leave something for Harley to work on. FRIDAY let him in through the glass doors, and Harley would probably been in awe of all the high tech, if something else hadn’t caught his attention: a kid in a flannel shirt, bent over some test tubes.

“Who the hell are you?”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! Hope you liked it! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated.
> 
> Also, I'm not a native speaker, so excuse any mistakes. Don't be shy to point them out, you'll be doing me a favor :)


End file.
